


Could this dream lead to fulfillment?

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, I'll get to the eventual smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, My First Smut, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, give me a minute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Had an idea in the Gutter Club server about a fic. This is what came out. Go easy on me, please. I'm going to blame this on Robin Lestrange.. but also, thanks for all of your lovely writing that led me to this idea!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

Robin arrived in the office at her usual time, two coffees in hand. She got out her keys and let herself into the office. She wasn’t surprised Strike seemed to still be asleep. He had done surveillance last night until 5 am. She was a little disappointed that he wasn’t awake yet, but she also understood that he needed his sleep.

She started her workday and an hour into it really wanted to talk to Strike. He's her best mate, and she imagined her days always going better when she had the chance to talk to him in the morning. Sitting at her desk, she thought about him being above her, sleeping. It stirred a warm feeling in her belly, and she decided it would be a shame for his coffee to get too cold. 

She knew he usually left his flat unlocked and decided she was going to wake him up. As she walked toward his flat, her mind began to wander, and she wondered if he slept in the nude or wore pyjamas. Robin could feel her mind starting to imagine his potentially naked body and had to shake herself out of it. She shouldn't daydream. Or was it fantasizing? She steeled herself as she began walking toward the stairs to his flat, feeling that warm sensation in her belly shifting lower in her body. 

Before she walked up the steps, she stopped a minute to take some deep breaths and get her thoughts in order. She couldn’t be fantasizing about her (possibly!) naked partner. Sure, Ilsa and Nick were relentless in their pursuit to try and get Robin and Strike together, but this was just waking up her best mate so he’d still have hot coffee. If anything, it was an innocent enough endeavor he’d appreciate. She softly knocked on his door and listened for his voice. She didn’t hear a response and determined he must be soundly sleeping.

Robin began to quietly open the door to his flat when she heard him softly murmur her name. She guessed he must be awake after all and knew she was knocking on his door. As she padded toward his bed, she became acutely aware that he appeared to be still sleeping. His breathing was slow and even, and she’d noticed his face looked bed soft. Was he talking in his sleep?

After waiting a moment, she heard him repeat her name. He shifted in the bed, and she froze. She knew Ilsa and Nick thought Strike was attracted to her but decided that it was ludicrous. Her overarching thought was he was probably just messing with her or trying to play a joke. Ilsa was continually trying to get them together, and she had let Ilsa’s meddling permeate too far into her mind. Internally, she scolded herself for listening to Ilsa and resolved to tell her well-meaning friend to lay off it.

Robin continued to listen to Strike’s breathing and heard him moan a few times. Was he having a nightmare? The moans didn't sound like something unpleasant was happening. She tiptoed closer and watched him sleep. It felt almost voyeuristic. He could wake up at any time and see her randomly standing by the end of his bed. She felt her cheeks flush when she could see he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, this was definitely voyeuristic and possibly inappropriate. She should stop watching him. Strike moaned a few more times and said Robin’s name for the 3rd time! What kind of nightmare could he be having where he said her name three times? Why was he moaning? At that moment, her brain connected his moans and saying her name in his sleep. He was having a sex dream about her! If her skin wasn’t flushed red before, it was now.

Robin couldn’t believe her eyes and ears. Was Ilsa right? Did Strike want her as more than a business partner and best mate? Was he dreaming about having sex with her right now? She laughed to herself and a mischievous thought occurred. She considered the evidence and thought she might use this opportunity to her advantage. She was sure of her feelings about Strike, though she felt momentarily disappointed that she didn’t have any whiskey or other type of liquid she could swig for Dutch courage in her coffee.

Before she realized what she was doing, she began sauntering to the opposite side of Strike’s bed and sat their drinks on the table next to the bed. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Robin was beside herself with the thoughts she was having. Was she really thinking about undressing down to her knickers and bra to then get in bed with Strike? Robin didn’t want to startle or scare him. What if she interpreted the evidence wrong? It could be a coincidence that she heard him say her name a few times in his sleep. Perhaps, this was something he did… talking in his sleep. She noted the desire she felt that she didn't often acknowledge and made a decision for "new year, new Robin." Robin didn't feel like she was missing out on anything when she didn't have sex, but with him so close, having a sex dream about her (maybe!), and the amount of real estate he took up in her brain all pointed to the need for bravery. She noted she had more courage in her to fight off the Shacklewell Ripper than to do what she was currently considering. What if he rejected her? Would she ruin their friendship? That's not what she wanted, but she also didn't want to 'chicken out.' Her divorce was final for over a year and she wanted to embrace this potential change if only to see where it led. 

Robin couldn't help feeling hope they could be partners in business and life. Their chemistry was undeniable, but this thing she wanted to do would change everything. She was afraid of screwing everything up but began slowly removing her shoes, trousers, and unbuttoning her green chiffon top. If she'd made it this far, she should go all in and get ready to slide under his duvet next to him. The time to be brave is now and she had no doubts about what she wanted, who she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Strike arrived at his flat just after 5 am. He’d had a long night of surveillance and was looking forward to sleep. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep and fell into a fantastic dream about Robin and some lingerie he heard her tell Ilsa she had bought. He could clearly see her lying in his bed in this new lingerie, which sent a frisson of pleasure down his spine.

During his waking hours, he decided the dreams he was having were inappropriate. She’s his best mate. He thought he should stop imagining her in various stages of undress since she’s also his business partner. He respected her as an investigator and was in awe of how her mind worked. He wasn’t the type of man to “ogle” women and even dream Robin deserved to be treated with respect.

Although it wasn’t uncommon to have erections in the morning, he experienced a level of shame when it was because of dream Robin. He shifted in his bed to find a more comfortable position for his aching shaft. He didn’t want this dream to stop, and at least 1 part of him agreed with his subconscious. She was wearing forest green lingerie and lying in his bed. Strike hadn’t seen the intimate things he heard Robin talking about, but he was happy with the picture he conjured up in his mind. He was 100% sure he heard the words straps and lace mentioned. He briefly imagined it during his waking hours and wondered if she was wearing it under her office attire. 

Green was Strike’s favorite color on Robin. It spurred his libido and made her already beautiful features exceptional. Robin in green was like turning up the volume of his favorite song. After she split from the twat (Matthew), she wore more green. He didn’t want to notice the difference in her wardrobe after the divorce. He started feeling the discipline and control he had over his body begin to disintegrate when she told him she had left the twat. Strike rebuked himself for being so attracted to his business partner and best mate. He had a brief realization that Robin started wearing green more often after the divorce--the twat must’ve told her green didn’t suit her, or he didn’t like it before she left him. The amount of time he spent picturing her in the poison green Roberto Cavalli dress from Vashti was becoming excessive, as was his fantasy of the dress pooled on his bedroom floor.

As Strike slept, he thought he could smell Narciso. How was it possible for him to be smelling Robin’s perfume while he was dreaming? He stirred momentarily and opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was experiencing now since he thought he was awake, but Robin was standing next to his bed. He said her name, and she immediately froze and stared into his eyes.

At first, he was confused and doubted his sanity. It was probably past the time when he needed to get an eye exam. There was no way Robin would be removing her clothing in his room next to his bed. Half naked Robin wasn’t something that he would be lucky enough to experience. He heard himself whisper her name and ask what she was doing. He noted the look on her face. Robin’s eyes were… desperate and filled with desire? Did he see that right? Embarrassment was etched across her beautiful face..

Strike saw Robin freeze when he spoke to her, and she began to blush a deeper shade of red than he'd ever seen. Still aware that he had an erection, he tried to hide his throbbing member so he wouldn’t scare her off. He waited a moment for her response. This whole experience defied any logic or reasoning. Strike knew he needed to avert his eyes; otherwise, he was going to have some issues. He started picturing the gruesome crime scenes he’d seen during his SIB days to keep his rock-hard shaft under some semblance of control and distract himself since Robin was still standing there, having not responded yet. He finally asked a follow-up question, Robin, are you okay?


	3. Chapter 3

When Robin made the decision to be brave, she considered the likelihood of Strike waking up to be low. He hadn’t been sleeping for long, but as she listened to him, he snored a bit, but mostly he was taking calm, even breaths. He was sleeping soundly. Why the fuck was he randomly awake and looking at her? 

She was glad that Strike was a gentleman and wasn’t staring at her or ‘ogling’ her as many men have done before. She saw him avert his gaze and was grateful for her partner’s manners and the level of respect he had for her. This was clearly an awkward position to be in for both of them, though Robin doubted Strike was as mortified as she was. She knew she couldn’t stand there, frozen. She hated the fight, flight, or freeze response just then. It didn’t make her feel confident like she had been just 5 minutes previously. She knew she’d have to say something. She knew she needed to channel her mortification and vulnerability back into courage. Easier said than done, of course.

Robin finally responded with what sounded like a squeal Strike was barely able to hear. She also said his name. She registered that he had asked her if she was okay and thought he’d gestured for her to sit down. She had trouble computing what he was saying but sat down at the end of his bed. Her breathing was shallow. She would be at a loss if she didn't get her body under control. This wasn’t the moment for a panic attack. Robin apologized to Strike for being presumptuous while mentioning something about Ilsa and Ilsa’s allusion that strike was sexually attracted to her. She also knew she was an intense shade of red. She wanted that bravery of 5 minutes ago back. She thought that going back in time would be helpful, but this wasn’t Dr. Who, and she didn’t have a time-turner.

When she first began to speak, she felt like she was hearing herself speak but not actually saying anything. It was strange to feel outside of her body in a predicament she had gotten herself into. It was a level of dissociation she hadn't experienced since her Uni days. She heard herself tell Strike she had wanted to come and wake him to give him the coffee she had gotten. She thought he was awake when she heard him quietly say her name. He said her name a second time, which made her feel sure he must be awake. 

She walked towards his bed, and when she got near the edge of it, she registered that he didn’t appear to be awake. He said her name a third time and was moaning. She thought he might be having a nightmare. She listened for another minute and thought the way he’d said her name and moaned in his sleep; he wasn’t having a nightmare. She thought about surprising him and waking him up in a way that he’d find sexy. She heard herself repeat the words, ‘new year, new Robin’ a few times. She held up her hand when it appeared he was going to interrupt what she had to say. She needed to get everything out before he responded.

She glanced at Strike to see if he was angry or upset about what she was saying. She was taken aback by the mischievous smirk on his face and how dark his eyes seemed. She gave him an out, saying if she were mistaken about his feelings, she’d straighten herself up and head out for the research she needed to take care of, though she was absolutely mortified. Robin knew he was capable of not talking about things he didn’t want to talk about and had the uncanny ability to compartmentalize everything. She couldn’t be sure at that moment if she was jealous of that ability or annoyed because it meant there were things he didn’t want to talk about. The last thing she said to him was that she loved him and was tired of dancing around the issue. She needed to know if he wanted her, not just as a partner at work, but in life.


	4. Chapter 4

Strike could tell by the facial expression on Robin that she was thinking. He’d seen that facial expression enough times to know interruption would be a futile effort. So many thoughts began whirring around in his head. The first being, What is she doing here? 

Then… Why is she only partially clothed? Am I hallucinating? Is she wearing what I think she’s wearing?

He couldn’t think of any logical reason why she would be here, in his flat, partially clothed. This whole situation defied any sense or logic; this was pure insanity. He’d had the notion after those first few thoughts to the acute awareness that she's partially clothed. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to think about that lingerie. He tried to keep things cool, professional.

As he continued to wait for her response, another thought came into his head. Holy shit! He hoped he didn’t need an eye exam because of the knickers he briefly noticed she was wearing before averting his gaze. Was she wearing green, strappy knickers? Could this be the lingerie he heard her describe to Ilsa? He averted his gaze so quickly; he couldn’t be sure. He admonished himself for these thoughts because he had already decided he was thinking about his partner and what she may or may not be wearing far too much.

Strike started feeling internally annoyed at his errant thoughts, which were not helping his now slightly painful erection. He wasn’t partial to praying for any reason, but he needed to hear her answer at that particular moment. He sent up a silent prayer. Indeed, whatever she had to say would explain everything.

He made a robust effort to hear what she was saying while not making eye contact. As private detectives go, this was a difficult feat. Strike knew he heard ‘new year, new Robin,’ though he still was unsure what that meant in this situation. While she was talking to him, his goal was always to hear what she was saying and not listen to respond. He knew women didn’t like that, and Robin’s words held the weight of all of the SIB cases he’d ever worked. She was just that important. She was everything.

Once she began speaking, she seemed to be staring at an invisible point outside of his window. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to see the deep pools of her blue-grey eyes. She’d have to be the one to make eye contact with him since he’d intentionally averted his gaze and didn’t want her to feel any more uncomfortable than he supposed she was already feeling.

By the time she made it to talking about Ilsa’s suspicion that Cormoran was attracted to Robin, he began to flush. He was grateful he was too tired to shave this morning. Perhaps his stubble could help hide the color. It was true, Ilsa is one of his oldest friends, but damn, she really needed to get out of his business. He was perturbed at Ilsa. She deserved his anger. It’s possible, though, that he was also a tiny bit appreciative of her meddling in this matter. Strike had decided to speak on Ilsa’s meddling, but it appeared Robin wasn’t having it. She held up her hand, and he knew she wasn’t done yet. A shadow of a smirk danced across his face before he went back to the confused look he’d been maintaining while Robin spoke. He wondered if she noticed the smirk and had a strange feeling like she had glanced at him right when he did.

Robin finally finished saying what he thought she came up to his flat to say. He heard her finish with, “I love you.” It was as if she had smacked him upside the head. Did I hear that right? She wasn’t standing up and running out of his flat. That’s what she must’ve said. Strike turned the phrase over in his mind, “I love you.” Bloody hell. He smiled to himself and thought, Robin said she loves me. He knew the ball was now firmly in his court. The first thought that came to mind was, “I love you too.” He felt that his heart would burst with the declaration she made--not just partners in business but life as well. Strike needed a moment to gather his thoughts before he could respond. He heard himself say, “I need a moment. Please don’t run away.”


End file.
